


My Love Dwelt in a Northern Land

by stephanericher



Category: Nana
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Ren loved Takumi</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love Dwelt in a Northern Land

 

 

I. Sand

It really was beyond them, now, wasn't it? The lights of Tokyo had outshone Trapnest, had outshone love (was it love?), had outshone Ren, had outshone Takumi. There was nothing left but broken dreams and the mounting cost of cigarettes and miso soup and extra salt.

The cold air was thick in Takumi's face, Ren could tell from the way he bit back the shivers and his lips were so dry when they kissed. Ren brought the other's mouth longingly to his own, pressed him against a wall. Takumi didn't try to fight it, hiss empty protests about the impropriety of it all, he was too lost in himself to give a damn.

This was the Takumi Ren hated, even though he would do what Ren wanted. He kind of got the feeling this was really just to shut him up and he didn't care at all about Ren's lips on his, as he numbly let his body respond. It was pure physicality, but…Ren didn't know how to be there for Takumi in any other way, really. All he knew was a touch and a false assurance and a riff. The bass line was Takumi's job.

Desperately seeking his lover locked inside the blank slate eyes, Ren nibbled at his neck, pulled his hair, raked his long nails down his cheeks, and finally Takumi pushed back in a flash, and he was out of the cage and none too happy about it. Well, Ren's happiness outweighed Takumi's irritation, didn't it? Zombie Takumi was the worst. Especially when the real Takumi saw right through him and clutched his hand tightly, though it was cold, through the deadness of the city and the deadness of the winter and the deadness of their dreams.

Together, they could build a life out of shambles, and raise it like a tower, not the pillar of sun-dried sand from the strip of beach in that town by the sea that had been their vacuous, naïve aspirations.

 

 

II. Moon

Hey, Takumi. Have you ever looked at the moon in the cloudless sky? I'm sure you have. Back in that tiny little town, where there was nothing to do and nothing to prove. When the nights were short and sweet and hot, you sat and looked out of that window with a cigarette in one hand and the other propping up your head, right?

It's hard to hold your head up, sometimes, when they laugh at you and your broken, fucked up, home, isn't it, Takumi? When they whisper and avert their gazes, that can be even tougher. You fight back, though, don't you? With your bat and your anger and your looks and your silence.

Takumi, have you ever just sat on a back porch, not even maybe your own, but your neighbor's, or your friend's, or even a stranger's, just sat out perfectly motionless and watched the day go by? It makes the days, all of them, seem so utterly and suddenly pointless. Life really is pointless. We live, we watch things fly by at their own pace, and we are like trains, running down a middle-speed line. Well, maybe you're a bullet train because you're always so much faster, gaining so much speed and getting too far ahead and I can't see you anymore.

There is so much to see, so much out there that is beautiful. I wish I could see it all with you, but all we have is that tiny little town. And now you are famous and I am so small. You told me I was made for better things, but that was wishful thinking. You were made for better things than small towns, than small me. That's okay. I don't like it, but I think I understand. That's just how it has to be.

I miss you.

Hey, Takumi, sometimes I wonder if we are watching the same moon, cigarettes in one hand.

 

 

III. Forest

It's been ages since he's been back to the small town. It seems fitting that since it began here, it would end here, doesn't it? His hair is graying at the ends. The once-sharp eyes are fogged over.

His sister died last year, and his wife around the same time. And there went his last legal tethers to this world. There is no excuse now, is there? He's completely alone, just him and his memories.

He steps down the street, leading around to the building that once was another, a middle school with windows broken by a promiscuous black-haired boy full of anger. There were student councils, a smart adopted child, a beautiful half-Japanese girl, boys obsessed with glam rock. They all flit before his eyes like static on a television.

There is the Terashima Inn, that's where he was from, isn't it? The boy with a pure heart and a purer guitar sound and an unquenchable soul lived there. Ren often talked about him, but his words could do the young man no justice. Takumi had hated and envied this boy for all he had and all he could be.

There is the grocery store, hours spent bargaining for milk and playing with the grocer's stupid kids when there was nothing left to do. There is the old concert hall, where hours were spent practicing, developing a fanbase, becoming the band.

And there is that apartment, where he first held Ren in his arms, and Ren held him back as if he would never let go, and where he surrendered his body again and again to Ren's hardness, to Ren's experiences, intangibly mixing with his own, to Ren's love, unlimited and undying. Ren's hands all over him, the minstrations on his now-limp manhood, the smirking lips, the teasing fingers playing him like he was playing a bass.

Oh, god, he needs it. It has been far too long.

 

 

He sinks into the sand, knees buckling as the sea sits grey and calm, green grass all around. His heart is colder than clay as he falls completely.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted (since deleted) on fanfiction.net
> 
> Music: "My Love Dwelt in a Northern Land" composed by Edward Elgar


End file.
